Charlotte's Revenge Read online

  “No way.”

  “You're usual?” the hostess asked with a friendly smile.

  “Yes,” Traci said, “and for my friend also.”

  She had to figure out how to explain what had happened at the gun range without mentioning Josh St. John and opening up a can of worms about “that bunch of outlaws” living in the woods. Or, how could she trust someone with so many “dangerous affiliations” and on and on. Randall couldn’t understand her relationship with Josh. So, she never mentioned him.

  Traci’s name had not made it into the papers surrounding Charlotte Carter’s arrest. But Josh knew what had happened in Magnolia Grove and made it a point to stop by the neighborhood more regularly to check up on her and her friends working at Bent Willow. Even though there were some things from her teenage years that would remain buried between them, she trusted Josh. He was never wrong. But now that evil woman was in jail ... well, why bother talking about all of that anyway. That was it. She would just not talk about it. Period.

  Moe, wearing his unwavering smile and trademark “Everything’s better with Smoke” t-shirt, appeared with a bowl of Louisiana gumbo and placed it in front of Traci and a tray covered in butcher paper stacked with a rack of Memphis-style barbeque ribs for Randall. A server followed behind him with the side fixings of seasoned potato wedges, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, and corn on the cob. Traci pulled away a corner of her baguette and dipped it in the glorious sauce teeming with sausage, rice, crawfish and okra.

  “Oh my god, this is the best, Moe! How is everything going?” She took another bite, shamelessly filling her mouth.

  “It's good to be back. Nothing better. Working hard, just gotta keep it up.” He pulled up a chair and straddled it. “That small business loan you and Mr. Winston found me was enough to buy back my place, but I’ve got to hold steady for at least six months to prove I can keep it afloat ...”

  “Well, the crowd is proof you've got the winning touch,” Randall said tucking his napkin in his collar, eager to get started eating. He paused and watched as Traci delighted in each spoonful of gumbo. She sensed his glance and grinned.

  She had this habit of licking the back of her spoon when she really enjoyed a meal. She remembered the first time someone caught her doing it. She was eating an ambrosia dessert during Thanksgiving dinner for all the kids sponsored by some Catholic food pantry. It was the only carefree memory she had from her childhood. Fast forward to Moe’s Tavern, one month shy of her twenty-seventh birthday. She was happy today. She was wearing her favorite dress and felt beautiful, in her favorite restaurant with the most perfect bowl of gumbo and looking into the eyes of the most handsome man in the place. Caught in the act of stupid spoon licking. She should have felt embarrassed, but she didn’t. His smile was all she felt. She tried not to giggle but she couldn’t help it. She blotted her lips with her napkin to suppress more giggles from escaping and failed. She was just ridiculously happy. It made her uncomfortable and satisfied with everything in her life all at the same time. It didn’t make sense. She had really tried but couldn’t make sense of it at all. She didn’t know how it happened with Randall, or when her heart opened, but ... she just adored him.

  “Oh Moe,” she said, “don’t forget my honey cake for dessert, with extra syrup!” She just couldn’t help it.

  “And Miss Stella’s banana pudding for me,” Randall said and then with a wicked smile he added, “to-go.” He was right. They needed some “alone time” soon. She missed being with him but couldn’t be prouder. She wouldn’t dare complain about the long hours he put in. It was a sacrifice for both of them.

  “Hey, congratulations on your promotion, Cap’n,” Moe said patting him on the back.

  “Thank you,” Randall said, “See, if you keep doing the right things, it pays off in the long run.”

  Mayor Gundry walked in, pushed his way past the servers darting between tables, and slapped Moe on the back. Moe stood up and embraced the balding portly man with the huge salt and pepper comb-over and thick moustache that he was constantly fussing with and tossing about his face.

  “This may be my last term as mayor. I might be out of a job in a few months. Maybe you can bring me on as a line cook, Moe.” They both laughed. Mayor Gundry turned to Randall who stood up to greet the official, “Great job, son. All I hear are good things.” He bellowed and slapped Randall’s forearm, then made his way to a booth near the kitchen.

  “I'm a little concerned about the cook I got now, to be honest,” Moe said.

  “Milo? Why, what's wrong?” Traci said putting down her spoon.

  “Don't get involved. Moe can handle things, it's his business.” Randall said, pointing at her, then licked his fingertips and dropped a clean bone on the opposite side of the stack.

  “Tell me,” she said, her eyes fixed on Moe. Her face darkened as she tried not to get frustrated by Randall’s tone and dismissive attitude about something this important.

  “Well, I can only get him so far, y’know. The kid's gotta get a high school diploma. I can't seem to talk him into going back to school.” He wadded the dish towel into a ball. “I don't want no trouble with the agency. If I don't get him enrolled this fall, then, well, they might split us up.”

  “I'll talk to him,” Traci said matter-of-factly, shrugged and resumed her meal.

  “No, Traci. It's between them,” Randall leaned forward, “and the social worker.”

  “It's about me talking to Milo. That's what it's about.”

  “Moe, help me out here.” He glanced over at Moe and sat back in defeat.

  “I gotta head back to the smoker.” Moe stood up and returned the chair to the adjacent table. “How about I bring you another rack? On the house.”

  “Yeah, thanks. I would never turn down an offer like that.” Randall said looking surprised at how much food had disappeared from the table. “If I keep eating like this, I’ll have to double my workout.”

  Moe picked up the empty dishes and brushed off the tablecloth, “You got it. I’ll be right back, Cap’n.” He patted Traci on the shoulder and with a friendly smile, whispered in her ear, “Now let the man live, Miss Traci. Let him live now.”

  She glanced up at Moe and gave him a little grin. He shrugged at Randall and walked away.

  “Milo has a job and real structure in his life right now. Let them sort it out. That's all I'm saying.” Randall wiped his hands and took a sip of beer.

  “And, I'm saying, I'm going to get him back in school. And, that's that.”

  “Okay, fine,” he shook his head. “Do what you want.”

  “Trust me, I will.” She picked up one of his potato wedges, swirled it in BBQ sauce and took a big bite. They both smiled, then laughed fully with each other as if no one else was in the place. “What a match,” she thought. He was wearing the ivory and forest green plaid shirt she had picked out for him that highlighted the mahogany undertones of his skin. She slipped off her sandal under the table and wiggled her toe against his calf. They both had been working so hard lately. It was time to have some fun.

  Moe returned with another platter of BBQ and refilled Traci’s glass of iced tea. Randall immediately dove into the ribs glistening with the sticky signature “Moe’s Mouthwatering Mesquite” BBQ sauce.

  “So good, man. You should bottle and sell this stuff, seriously.” Randall’s cellphone started buzzing again. “Angel, grab that for me.” He stretched his leg forward to give Traci access to his front pants pocket. She reached over and pulled it out and answered, “Captain Randall Wells’ phone.” She felt so silly. The caller identified himself. She covered the front of the phone and mouthed the name, “Pernell?”

  Randall snatched the napkin from his collar and grabbed the phone before rushing away from the table to a corner of the dining room.

  “Wonder what's going on,” Moe said bending down beside her.

  “It's probably about that case with Charlotte Carter.” She gestured for Moe to come closer and whispered in his ear,
“The inside scoop is she's going to accept a plea bargain and we won't have to testify.”

  “Whew, that's the best news I’ve had in years,” Moe said, “I don't want no part of that cold-hearted woman. Crazy how long it took to get to this. What about the old man, Miss Rowena's husband?”

  “Earl Garrett is still under house arrest back at Rest Haven. They don't think he's well enough for jail.”

  “Probably right about that. The whole thing is a shame. Just a stinking shame.”

  “Yeah, I'm glad it’s going to be all behind us now.”

  Moe caught her staring at Randall standing across the room with his back toward them. She looked down at her lap and then wiped her mouth to hide her childish grin.

  “You two seem to be hitting it off real nice lately. Don't be embarrassed, Miss Traci. Ain't nothing wrong about being in love. As a matter of fact, it's a beautiful thing.”

  “I am ... happy for this ... for us. You know, we've been planning a vacation together for the holidays. Just trying to work out the details with his new promotion and ...” she looked nervously at her hands, “well, we'll see. I don’t want to get my hopes up, I guess. It's weird being this happy. I don't know how else to say it.” She started eating again. “Don’t lick the spoon,” she thought.

  Moe nodded, “I understand. But keep in mind, every storm runs out of rain. Enjoy the sunshine while it’s here.”

  Randall returned to their table.

  “Pernell is one of the detectives assigned to the case ...”

  “Yeah, I was just telling Moe the good news that we won't have to testify and Charlotte Carter ... “

  “Escaped.”

  “What?” Traci dropped her spoon and splashed the soupy sauce across the bodice of her dress.

  “They were returning her to the detention area. Somehow the guards got distracted and she slipped away. Totally unacceptable.” His jaw tensed and his fists tightened on the tabletop. “I have to get back to the station. I don't want to leave you here, but I’ve got to get things moving immediately.” He flipped open his wallet and pulled out his credit card.

  “I'll make sure Miss Traci gets home,” Moe said refusing to take the payment.

  “No need. I've got an officer assigned to her and on the way here now. He’ll escort her home and stay at the premises until I get there. And I ordered a car to be stationed at Hazelton House.”

  “Okay, we’ll keep her in the back with us ‘til he gets here. Don’t worry, we won’t let nothing happen to Miss Traci.”

  “But ... wait,” Traci’s thoughts were like a thousand pieces of a jigsaw puzzle tossed into the air. She was frantically trying to connect them back into the picture-perfect day they were having. She placed her palms on the tablecloth to absorb the sweat and nervous energy she could feel starting to surge. What was happening? They were celebrating. It was good news. The perfect day. She wanted her perfect day back. There must have been a mistake, a prank, or something like that. “No, Randall sit back down please and let’s finish ...”

  “That woman is a confessed murderer,” Randall leaned over the table and looked into her eyes. “She’s dangerous and I'm not taking any chances. No arguments, Tracinda.”

  “Okay ...” she whispered and lowered her eyes as the room dimmed around her. All she saw was her hand lift from the white tablecloth and wipe the sauce now mixed with tear stains on her beautiful favorite sundress.

  “Deep breaths, Miss Traci, remember?”

  Chapter Three

  Randall

  IT HAD BEEN THIRTY-six hours of emergency warrants, searches and interviews with officers and detention center staff. There were no new leads and nothing back from the surveillance videos of the adjacent buildings yet. Randall finally got back to Traci’s place long after midnight but she was still awake and waiting up for him. It felt so good to have her back in his arms. He had explained everything that he could and finally convinced her to get some sleep a few hours before sunrise. He nodded off for what seemed like seconds until his phone alarm buzzed again and he headed downstairs to the kitchen.

  He ground his palms into his eyes as if he could push away how exhausted and frustrated he felt. No matter what, he wasn’t going to let up until Charlotte Carter was back in custody and sentenced for Rowena Garrett’s murder. She was guilty and deserved the death penalty as far as he was concerned but that was not something he ever spoke out loud. His job was to bring her in and let the prosecutor deal with the rest. And, keep Traci safe. That was his top priority. He never forgot the moment he arrived and saw that woman with a gun pointed at Traci. If he had appeared a minute later, she would have been killed that day at Hazelton House. She had been through enough.

  Traci spent every day in yoga class with that brain-body guru person bending herself into a pretzel. He didn’t understand it, but it was helping. He was proud of the way she had recovered from that horrible experience and God knows what else from her childhood. There were no more nightmares. And no alcohol. She had come a long way emotionally and he would never let someone like Charlotte Carter near her again. “That was not going to happen.” He pushed the Bluetooth earbud deeper in his left ear and listened to the dispatcher on the KMP police scanner app.

  “Nobody just disappears like that,” he thought as anger welled up in his chest. He took a deep breath. “Not without some help.”

  He cracked a couple of eggs into a pan on the one burner hotplate, scrambled them with a fork, tossed them onto a piece of wheat bread with a dash of hot sauce and swallowed it down in three quick bites. He slurped a bit of the too-hot coffee from his Rattlers football mug and accepted the burn at the back of his throat with a grunt.

  “I'm going to have to buy this woman a real stove,” Randall murmured while frying bacon in the pan. He lifted the brown crispy pieces onto a plate, blotted them with a paper towel, turned off the burner and set the pan aside. He filled a thermos with coffee and added a drizzle of vanilla almond syrup. As he sealed the lid and gave it a few quick shakes, Traci joined him, rushing around the kitchen.

  “Oh, babe,” she said. “I overslept ... again.”

  “It's okay.” He scooped her up in his arms, “You’re cute when you snore.” He watched the rose blossom across her cheeks. He loved to make her blush. Her wild side made her sweet side even more delicious. “It doesn’t bother me. But if you put sugar in your grits one more time, I’m warning you, it's a deal breaker.”

  He took that kiss he needed from the moment she stepped into the room. She draped her arms around his neck and cupped the back of his head, pulling him deeper into the sweetness of her lips. “This woman” was all he could ever think when she was this near. He suppressed a groan and came up for air. He wanted to carry her back up those stairs ... he brushed small kisses across her cheek. He pulled back her collar and nuzzled his face into her neck and glanced at his watch. She was due at the office in fifty minutes. They could save ten minutes if he drove her instead of taking the private shuttle. Fifteen if he cut through the construction zone. And he could do that, no one would stop him now. Or, maybe she could just call off from work today ... He reached for the top button on her blouse. She pulled away.

  “I've gotta go,” she said and picked up the thermos, grabbed a slice of cantaloupe and her lunch bag from the fridge.

  “I'll drive you to work,” he said pressing his hand across his bare chest not wanting to lose the warmth of her embrace.

  “No, don't be silly,” she said smiling. “You've been working those double-shifts. And now with everything else ... get some rest.”

  “I don't mind.” He grabbed his jeans from the chairback and pulled them over his boxer-briefs. “Let me get my keys,” he said and reached for her again.

  “Randall, sit down and eat your breakfast.” She pushed his hand aside and munched on the melon slice. “Oh, and remember I have yoga after work today. And then the photoshoot after that.”

  “Right, I'll pick you up after work at Dewey Station around fi
ve-thirty.” He bit into a slice of bacon. “We’ll stop by Jay's Fitness for your yoga thing. Then Hazelton House for that picture thing. Maybe we can catch a late dinner at Queen Street Seafood after ...”

  “You don't have to taxi me everywhere. I'll be fine. Just relax,” she said with her hands on her hips. “You should try yoga. It's a real stress reliever.”

  “I already have a stress reliever.” He feigned a sexy blink and reached for her again.

  She dodged his hands, laughed and stepped into the morning light streaming through the trees in the back yard. She waved her hand nonchalantly.

  “You worry too much. Charlotte Carter is probably a thousand miles from here.” She bounced down the back steps and out of his sight.

  Randall waited at the back porch until the Keeferton Municipal Police squad car hidden behind the abandoned property eased out of the alley. He exchanged a nod with the officer and watched it trail behind Traci as she walked down the street. He went back inside, filled a bowl with warm creamy grits, added a pat of butter, piled high the bacon and toast. He pulled a bar stool up to the counter, tapped the FriendsTagAlong app on his phone and located Traci on his list of contacts. Then sipped his coffee as he watched Traci's green dot move slowly across the map of Magnolia Grove.

  Chapter Four

  Traci

  TRACI BOARDED THE PRIVATE S&K employee shuttle and set her intentions that today would be a normal day. Nothing Randall had said last night was going to interfere with it. Besides, he was always on guard about something. He was convinced that there was something “fishy” about that operation she worked for,” but she was tired of always changing jobs, this place had to work out and there was room for promotion, Randall would have to be patient. He would see and one day, maybe even be proud of her. She watched out of the window as the shuttle carried them swiftly through traffic to the south side of town. Her mind wandered back to the days when she had to navigate these same streets as a Flyer. Sometimes she missed the freedom, but she was thankful those days were over. She had spent the last two years as a docent at Hazelton House but now spent most of her time working double-duty in the office for Simon, Kinsey and Co. She enjoyed the work and the extra pay. The driver stopped at the last pickup station. A tall thin woman with long dark hair boarded the shuttle and Traci’s heart leaped as she caught a whiff of the sickening scent of L’Eau de Marseille that was burned into her memory of Charlotte Carter. “Calm down,” she thought and took a breath. “Stop being paranoid.”